Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic
by SoulfulSam
Summary: Every little thing Sam does just turns Dean on. Rated M for extreme slash. PWP, Wincest
1. Hands

A little groan accidentally escaped Dean's lips as he watched Sam's hands glide over the barrel of the shotgun, getting ready to disassemble and clean it. Sam jerked his head up to where Dean was sitting on the bed with several pieces of another gun laying around him and then furrowed his brows in concern.

"You okay?"

Embarrassment came over Dean at how ridiculous and needy that moan of his had sounded and he coughed into his tightly balled fist and then picked up a random piece of gun that he was sure he'd already cleaned about three times. "Yeah, fine."

Sam shrugged and looked back down at the gun, his hands moving deftly as he took it apart, neatly leaving each piece on the desk in front of him with the kind of skill that could only come from years of intimate knowledge of the weapon. Dean shifted on the bed and opened his legs a little wider to accommodate the growing tightness in his pants; with all that they'd been doing with their latest case, Sam hadn't shown that kind of intimate knowledge for him in almost a week. His brother's eyes were focused as his hands quickly worked their way into every dirty nook and cranny of the gun, smearing his fingers with gun oil and black soot. Last week in the shower…mm, the way he used those hands and mouth of his to help him work all the tension out of his body…fuck, he wanted to reenact that right at that moment. But they couldn't; Sam had to fix his sawed-off before he left in the morning to follow up a lead on their hunt and he needed to finish doing a check on a few other weapons. He groaned internally and then looked down and began to reassemble his weapon, moving in swift, agitated motions, when he suddenly heard Sam cry out.

"Ow! Shit." Dean looked up to see Sam move his index finger to his mouth and lick a drop of blood from it, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping along the pad. "No wonder this gun isn't firing right, it's all w-"

The rest of the sentence came out as a jumble of muffled, incomprehensible syllables as Dean raced over to the small desk, leaned across it, and kissed him so hard that his chair nearly tipped over. _Fuck it_, he thought, _he'll leave later; a man's got needs_. The gun fell back onto the table and Sam's hands flew up into the air to steady himself as the chair tipped back, but Dean held him in place and kept him from falling as he assaulted his mouth with firm lips, sweeping tongue, and clanging teeth. He felt Sam's lips begin moving against his almost immediately but slower and more gentle, trying to soften the kiss. Dean slowed down for him but the kiss kept its hard intensity and few seconds later Dean pulled away.

"You taste like blood and gun oil."

"Yeah, you saw I cut myself, right?"

Dean looked down at Sam's long fingers. "Mm, yeah, I did." He brought Sam's middle finger to his mouth and laid an open-mouthed kiss on it.

"Dude, that's gross; my fingers are coated in gun oil."

Dean kissed down Sam's finger and palm. "Undo your pants for me and I'll kiss you somewhere else."

Sam's breath hitched and Dean then looked into his eyes to see that Sam's face had already turned serious, his eyes wide with unabashed want. Without a word, Sam quickly undid his belt and then the button and zipper of his jeans and then pushed them and his boxers down past his knees, allowing his already hard cock to spring free. He pushed his chair back and away from the table a couple of feet, then slid his hips forward and let his legs fall apart. God, it was so fucking hot that he could get Sam worked up so fast, that he could get him to do what he wanted so easily just because he craved him that much. Dean got down on his knees between Sam's legs and pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his legs until they were pooling around Sam's ankles and then laid open-mouthed kisses and nips up the insides of Sam's left thigh before moving his mouth quickly to Sam's shaft, where he licked along a blue vein on the underside from the base to the tip. When he got to the head he then licked around the crown and along the slit, tasting just a hint of salt from a little bit of pre-cum that had already managed to leak out. He looked up to see Sam watching him, staring at his mouth and the way he was teasing him with his tongue and for half a second Dean considered being a real cocktease and working him up a little more before pulling away so he could make Sam beg for it, but he'd really been wanting to do this to Sam for too long and so he decided against it. Instead he slid the head between his lips and sucked on it for a few seconds before sinking his head down further and beginning to move back and forth on the thick, long shaft while he gripped the base in his hand and began to stroke everything that didn't easily fit into his mouth.

Sam left out a sigh as if he'd just been given to answer to a long-awaited prayer and let his head fall back on his seat as he closed his eyes. "I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, but whatever it is, I like it."

Dean slowly slid his mouth back and off of Sam's cock. "Look at me; I want you to watch."

Sam looked down and Dean stared up at him as he once again wrapped his lips around the shaft and began bobbing back and forth on it. He saw Sam's eyes and how clearly turned on he was and it only worked him up and encouraged him all the more. He moved his free hand down to his own jeans and quickly undid them, then brought out his own cock and began to slowly stroke it.

Sam made a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan and then licked his lips. "I come too quickly when I watch."

Dean once again pulled away from Sam's cock and then began gingerly licking the tip. "That's okay; I have a bunch of things planned for you tonight."

A glob of pre-cum streamed from Sam's head at hearing those words and Dean smiled and eagerly lapped it up. Dean slid Sam's cock back into his mouth and gave it an extra hard suck, eliciting a moan from Sam who then let his head fall back for a second before he quickly snapped it back down to obediently watch.

.

Two hours and one embarrassing call from the front desk asking them to quiet down later, Dean's flushed, sweaty body collapsed against Sam's and he let out a contented sigh before he gingerly pulled himself out of Sam's ass and rolled off of him.

Sam smiled wide, showing all his teeth and let out a little laugh. "Shit, Dean. Like I said; I don't know what suddenly got you so turned on tonight, but…" He turned on his side towards Dean, threw an arm over his chest, and kissed him on the side of the mouth. "I really, really like it."

"Just you, Sammy." He reached up and firmly gripped Sam's hand. "You got no idea what you fucking do to me."

"Guess that's a good thing because if I did, I'd do it 24/7"

Dean smiled and then turned to Sam and kissed him on his bright pink, kiss-swollen lips. "You already do."

.

Thanks for reading! I plan to make this a multi-chapter about all the little things that Sam does that turns Dean on, probably all PWP like this one. I hope you all liked it and I'd really like to know what you thought, whether you liked it or not! I gotta admit, I'm blushing a little right now; this chapter somehow feels filthy, even for me, so I hope it's alright.


	2. Voice

So…warning you beforehand…I'm not sure how I feel about this one. This is the first time I've written about…well, any of the things these boys are doing really…so it's really a bit of an experiment. Let me know what you think, please. – WARNING: Dirty Talk & Rimming

.

"Hello?"

Sam's voice on the other end of the phone sounded a little grumpy and groggy but Dean felt his body relax a little against the hard mattress of his motel bed anyway. "Hey Sam, did I wake you?"

"Uh, yeah, I just got back to the room and I was so tired I must have just collapsed."

"Hmm." Dean raised an eyebrow as he thought of Sam lying possibly naked in bed, hair sticking up in all directions and cradling the phone by his ear. "So, you're in bed?"

"Yeah, I was watching TV and just fell asleep. This hunt is just wearing me out; things on my end are getting a little hairy, but I think I've finally got a lead on where our ghost boy might be buried, so hopefully I'll be able to meet back up with you in just a day or two."

"Mhm." Dean's hand slid absently up and down his bare chest and stomach. "Well, that's the best news I've heard all day because I'm coming up with jack down here."

"Yeah, I hear ya. I only got a lead last night, but I think it's a good one. See, turns out…" And Sam was off talking about the case, all the people he'd met, interviews he'd given, and blah, blah, blah. Dean broke in with the occasional 'mhm,' 'ah,' and 'yeah,' but he wasn't really listening. It wasn't that he was completely uninterested; after all, he was probably going to need to know at least some of what Sam was telling him so he could do his half of the job down here in Indiana, but he couldn't seem to help himself. It was just…that voice! It had that deep and raspy quality like it always did right after sex or first thing in the morning when he'd wake Sam up with his hard-on pushing up against his ass. Whenever they didn't have to get out of bed first thing in the morning, Sam would often reach behind him and grab his hard cock while using that low, sleepy voice to tell him in detail exactly what he wanted to do with it. And just thinking about that made him slide his hand the extra few inches down to his semi-hard cock and begin lazily running his hand over it. He was so busy thinking about Sam's voice that when Sam suddenly stopped talking he had no idea of what to say.

"Dean? Hey, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Good, sounds good, Sammy." He paused. "So, next day or two, huh? You think you can wrap it up that quick?"

He heard Sam chuckle. "I miss you too, Dean."

Dean smiled uncomfortably and made a noise halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "Whatever, I didn't say I missed you. But I could use your help down here." He paused again, just long enough to open up the nightstand drawer and pull out a small tube of lotion, which he then laid beside him on the bed. "So, you miss me, huh? What do ya miss?"

Sam didn't say anything for several seconds. "Dean, you know I can't do that." He sounded shy and embarrassed, which somehow was even more arousing than before.

"Can't do what?"

"You know what. I feel stupid whenever I try this with you."

"Jeez Sammy, you're twenty-six year old; you'd think you could at least say the words 'phone sex' without acting like you've somehow been corrupted. Besides, it's been three days since you left and I know you want a little sumpin' sumpin' just as much as I do. Come on, at least tell me what you're wearing."

Sam sighed. "A white t-shirt and a pair of boxers."

"Mm, which pair of boxers? Are they that red and white checkered pair that's just a little too tight in all the right places?"

"Do you want them to be?"

Dean smiled; Sammy was already sort of getting the hang of it. "Mm, yeah, I do. I like the way those look on you. And when you get hard, your cock just slides right out of them. Easy access, all for me."

"So…" Sam paused and Dean could almost hear the blush through the phone. He wasn't sure why it was such a turn-on for Sam to be so shy, but a surge of blood rushed to his cock, making it hot and fully hard right then and he grabbed the tube of lotion, squirted some onto his hand, and then ran it up and down his cock. "Um, what are you wearing?"

"Nothing. I just got out of the shower."

"Yeah?" His voice rose in pitch a little the way it did whenever he found something especially interesting.

"Yeah. I haven't even toweled off yet, so I'm soaking wet and just lying in bed getting hard from thinking about how much I wanna take that t-shirt and boxers off of you right now. Would you want me to do that if I was there with you right now?"

"Yeah." Sam sounded completely serious and his voice was deep and a little quieter than before. Dean smirked extra wide; knowing all of Sam's triggers sometimes made it almost too easy. It was very rare that in the end Sam wouldn't at least try to do whatever it was that he wanted, the little slut. Of course, that went both ways, but Dean wasn't going to dwell on that at the moment.

He lowered his voice a little. "Would you get on the bed for me then? Would you let my naked, wet body get on top of you?"

"Yeah, yeah I would."

"And then what, Sammy?"

"I'd…uh, I guess – I guess I'd kiss you."

Dean took his hand from his cock and he couldn't help it; he laughed. "Come on, Sammy, that's it?"

Sam sighed exasperatedly. "You're such a jerk, Dean."

"Come on, Sammy, I'm getting blue balls over here."

"That's your own damn fault."

"Yeah, my fault because when we're going at it sometimes you say the filthiest things that make even me blush but when I try to initiate phone sex, you get all 'aww shucks' on me?"

"I'd…I'd bite your lips and then suck your tongue exactly the way you like me to suck your cock." Sam's voice had just a small edge of anger in it, the way it always did when he was given a challenge and felt he needed to prove someone wrong. _That's it, Sam,_ he thought, _use that dirty mind and fucked-out voice of yours to_ _prove me wrong._

"Mm, yeah, I do like when you do that."

"I know you do, Dean. And then I'd put my leg between your thighs so that when I reach down the back of your pants and grab that nice, hard little ass of yours and pull you forward, I could feel you getting hard for me."

"I'm hard for you now, wanna feel you against me like that while I put my hands on every part of you, fucking running my fingers along those serious abs of yours and those nice, hard pecs and then I'd run my fingers across your nipples until they're nice and hard. Sammy? Would you touch your nipples for me?"

There was a pause and then he heard a breathy sigh and then a whispered, "Dean…"

"Are you doing it?"

"Yeah."

"Mm, that's good. Imagine it's me. I'm flicking my fingers over your nipples as I move my mouth slowly down the side of your neck. Getting hard for me?"

"Yeah."

"What else are you doing? Are you touching yourself?"

"Um, no."

"It's okay, nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm touching myself just thinking about you. I want you to do it too, so I can picture you somewhere up there in Michigan palming your cock with your eyes half-closed, coming all over yourself, thinking of me as you do it. Mm, Sammy, I wish you were here right now, want your hands on me so I don't have to do this by myself."

"Me too." Dean heard a little breathy moan and he was pretty sure that Sam had started playing along like he wanted him to. "God, I miss you, Dean."

"Yeah? Tell me what you miss."

"I miss the feeling of your body. I got into the shower this morning and jacked off to thinking about you being in there with me, putting your hands on my chest, letting me slowly guide them down to my cock. And then I wanted to reach down and stroke you until I feel you get hard in my hands so I could get down on my knees –"

Sam broke off suddenly as if he'd said too much but Dean began to run his hand up and down his shaft in a slow, teasing manner. Now they were finally getting somewhere. "Go ahead, Sammy. What do you want to do while you're on your knees?"

"I…"

There was an extended pause, with which Dean used to let his imagination run wild. What was Sam so embarrassed about? There were only a few things he could do in that position, and Dean loved them all. He saw Sam's head between his legs, mouth licking and nipping up the insides of his thighs, tongue then pressed up against his taint, moving forward along his seam, up his shaft…

"Come on, I wanna know. What do you want to do to me?"

"I…well, I was just thinking about it, I don't know if we could…or, I mean, what it would be like, but, ah…" Sam paused and Dean gave him what he hoped was an encouraging silence so he would finish. "Well, I wanna spin you around and make you lean up against the shower so I can lick your ass."

"Really?" Dean's head reeled; they'd never done that before. "Wow, Sam, I never knew, but that's definitely going on the 'To Do' list as soon as you get back."

"Yeah? You – you really wanna try it?"

Dean smirked. "Well, I don't know, why don't you tell me a little more about it?"

"I wanna – uh, I wanna run my tongue down your ass until I get to your hole and then flick my tongue along the rim."

There was clearly more he wanted to say but he stopped, clearly afraid that Dean wouldn't want to let him try it or that he'd make fun of him. "Don't be embarrassed, Sam; that sounds hot. What else?"

"I wanna circle it, just running my tongue along it and getting it wet with my spit. And then I wanna put just the tip of my tongue inside, licking and then jabbing as I put more and more of it inside you until you can feel the pressure from my entire tongue inside of you. I wanna feel your tight muscles relax into it and then reach around and grab your cock as I keep going, and work you up with my hands until I bring you to the edge."

Dean gripped himself a little harder and began stroking faster. Fuck, yeah, definitely on the 'To Do' list. "You gonna jack me off?"

"No, I don't want you to come yet, Dean." Sam's voice sounded like it had some new-found confidence and it came out a bit more commanding. "But I wanna bring you just to that point where you really want to come –" His breath started getting heavier, "Where your cock is throbbing and every touch feels so – so fucking good."

Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "Yeah? And then what?"

"Shit, I wanna put my fingers in you."

Another thing that was unusual for them, but Dean knew how much Sam liked to dominate sometimes. "You prepping me, baby? Gonna fuck me?"

"Yeah – yeah, I wanna fuck you. Mm…Dean? Could you do it for me?"

"Do what?" He was pretty sure what Sam was going to ask but he wanted to make him say the words.

"Put your own fingers inside of you."

Dean took his hand off his cock and slicked up two fingers on the other hand, taking care to cock his head to the side so he could cradle the phone by his ear. "Anything for you, Sammy."

He shifted down on the bed, lifted one leg, and bent it at the knee, then reached down so that his finger was touching the outside of his entrance. He teased it a little with one finger, feeling the muscles contract and then loosen underneath his touch and then slipped it inside.

"You doing it?"

"Yeah." With the other hand he once again reached down and began stroking himself. "And I'm imagining it's you touching me, getting so worked up over my ass."

"Mm, good." Sam's voice had gotten a little hushed as he breathed into the phone, probably no louder than he was, and let out little moans as he spoke." You have such a nice ass and I don't get to play with it enough. I'm – ooh – I'm fingering your tight ass, first with just one finger. I'm going deeper and deeper, feeling those muscles squeeze around me, until I'm knuckle deep and – oh god – I'm looking for your sweet spot…"

Dean played along, moving his finger just as Sam described. After a moment, he brushed a bundle of nerves that sent a pulse of pleasure through his body and he let out a little cry. "Ooh, go-o-o-d-d, S-a-a-m!"

"Looks like I found it."

Dean moaned and began moving his hand faster on his cock. "God – fuck, you did, babe, you fucking did!"

"Okay, I'm rubbing my finger back and forth so I can hit that spot every time. I – I – oh god – I've gotta take it out now so I can put a second one in too. But I'm looking for your spot again and when I find it I keep going until you're begging me –"

He was so close. "God, fuck me already Sam, just fuck me!"

"Oh god – yes – yes – yes – Dean, I wanna fuck you – I want– I want –"

He heard Sam let out a loud sigh and knew he was coming. He imagined him splattering his hand, stomach, and chest with white, his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut during his moment of ecstasy and then he heard his heart pounding in his ears and his vision whited as he felt a familiar warm, wet sensation flowing over his hand and hitting his stomach. He pulled his fingers out of his ass and then grabbed a corner of the bed sheet to wipe himself off. Once he was done and felt at least a little less sticky, he relaxed on the bed and grabbed the phone with one of his hands so he could straighten his neck.

"Damn, Sam, you are one dirty, dirty boy. I gotta say, I didn't know you had it in you."

He heard Sam yawn on the other end. "God Dean, I'm glad that happened, but what the hell started all that? You get all worked up talking about ghosts now?" Dean laughed and shook his head. Even after all the times and years they'd been together, the kid still had no clue. "Wait a minute – Dean? Were you even listening to me at all when I was talking about the case?"

"Er, yeah… No."

Sam sighed. "Okay, well, I'm tired now so I'm going back to sleep but I'm calling you first thing in the morning and you'd better listen."

"Alright Sammy, scheduling a phone sex date first thing in the morning, check."

"No, Dean! I mean it; we've got work to do."

"Your right, first thing in the morning I've got a lot of work to do. You remember."

"No phone sex."

Dean felt a shiver from hearing Sam's strong voice coming out so commanding and he chuckled. "We'll see."


	3. Mind

"You think it's a slug?"

Sam looked up from his laptop and across the room at Dean, then rolled his eyes and gave him a long-suffering sigh. "Sluagh."

"Okay, fine, a sl-oo-ah-gh." He shrugged. "Great, what the hell is it?"

Sam looked back down at his screen and began tabbing down the page. "Well, it's from Irish lore, they're a kind of demon. After we saw those bird feathers this morning where the last victim was attacked…er, left, I was thinking at first that it could be a god, you know, like Horace from Egyptian lore, possibly kidnapping sacrificial victims, but the marks on the victim were all wrong. Nothing about the killings look ritualistic, like a sacrifice."

"Yeah, you're right – I'd say they look more like the victims of a psycho killer in a slasher flick than a god."

Sam's eyes lit up excitedly and he gestured toward him with a wave of his arm. "Right, exactly. So I started doing some research on things that match our mystery monster and got a hit."

Sam typed in a few keystrokes on the laptop and then slid it around the table to face Dean, who leaned forward on the bed and scanned his eyes down the photo on the screen. It showed what looked like an enormous crow with eagle talons, a human face, and a Gene Simmons tongue flying towards the ground and chasing a group of running villagers.

He sniggered and shook his head. "Looks charming."

Sam gave him a lopsided smile, then turned the laptop back around towards himself and typed in a few more keystrokes. "The lore says that they're the spirits of people so evil that they were rejected from both Heaven and Hell and then transformed into a large flock of angry, black birds. According to the lore, these thing never touch the ground because the earth abhors them. But they will kidnap people and then eat their souls in mid-air."

"If this thing is chomping on them in mid-air and then letting them fall when it's done, then that would explain all the broken bones we found."

"Right, exactly."

Dean leaned back on the bed and crossed his arms. "Okay. Good job, Poindexter."

Sam nodded absently while still concentrating completely on his laptop. There was a little crease between his eyebrows as he squinted at the screen, frowning in concentration. He was thinking about this thing pretty hard and Dean waited for the inevitably coming speech about whatever bizarre thing he knew about that didn't quite match up. 3…2…

"The thing I don't get though…" Dean grinned. There it was. "…is why are these things coming to Minnesota? I mean, monsters usually stay in their country of origin."

Sam was such a freaking know-it-all. Almost every time they worked a case, Sam would either research their evidence to death and then bore him for half an hour talking about it, or he'd already know something about it and then bore him to death on the spot. Although, Dean had to admit that it was pretty damn useful sometimes; back when they hunted that creepy-ass homicidal painting, Sam's impressing that hot art dealer chick with his art history knowledge was the only thing that had gotten them those provenances they'd needed. Well, that and Sam's hot ass; it was about 50/50. And then yesterday when they'd met up with that professor of folklore at the local community college, she and Sam had started talking about some ancient Chinese history and ten minutes later she was looking at Sam like she was in love. When she'd asked Sam out to dinner, Dean had jumped in and said yes for him; the kid was a huge geek, but he impressed smart chicks who apparently knew about the kind of stuff they needed. Sam hadn't appreciated Dean's volunteering him for a date, but, hey, they had work to do. And, okay, so maybe a small part of the reason why he'd done it was because he liked to watch those brainy, high-class chicks check Sam out and know that at the end of the night Sam was still only coming home to him.

Even though Sam was a monster pain in the ass, Dean could see what those girls saw in him; whether he was going on forever about a boring topic or not, it was kind of sexy to watch him get really excited about it, especially when he thought other people were listening to his geeky ramblings. At the moment though, Sam was still staring at his computer screen looking deep in thought, little concentration lines forming on his face.

Dean decided to bait him. "Not always."

Sam gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise, no doubt at one of his geeky facts being challenged. "Yeah, I know sometimes there are exceptions, but most of the monsters who migrate to America came over around the time of the Mayflower."

Dean smirked and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Which was when?"

"1620," Sam replied automatically and Dean got a feeling of deep personal satisfaction at Sam's immediately following bitchface.

"Dean, this is serious. We gotta find out if it these things that are killing people and if so, then why the sudden move."

"Maybe they just got tired of the neighbors,"

"For centuries," Sam went on with only a slightly reprimanding edge in his voice, "they stayed in Northern Ireland and never left. Even with recent immigration, think of all the creatures that have never left their old haunts. In Japan, there's the…"

…And he was off, rattling off this mental catalogue of monster names and facts. Dean had once joked to their dad's friend Travis that Sam had some sort of research kink, but honestly, even then he was only half-joking. The kid loved his research; who knew, maybe he really did sleep with a book under his pillow. Just then, a mental image came to him of Sam sweaty, flushed, panting, and moaning like a whore as Dean fucked him from behind while reading aloud from a law textbook he had in hand. He coughed to stifle his laugh. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a _kink_ per say, but it was still pretty friggin bad. Even as a teen, whenever they went to the library together to look something up for Dad, Sam would get so into his research that he was completely oblivious to the cute girls who spent the whole time they were there checking him out. And the first time Sam had talked to him about wanting to have sex, (because, yes, in typical Sam style he just had to talk about it first,) he'd broken out tons of facts he'd researched about gay sex tips and suggested positions for beginners.

Sam stopped in the middle of his sentence, sat up a little in his chair and looked at him, disapproving and confused. "What's so funny?"

"Huh? Nothing. Go ahead." But, instead of going on with his monologue, Sam raised an eyebrow and squinted at him. Dean gestured with an arm to tell him to go on. "You were talking about the, ah…kongamato; I'm listening."

Sam leaned back in his chair. "Whatever. The point is that if this thing is a sluagh, then we gotta figure out what's bringing it over here. If we don't, we might kill this one only to have ten more show up in its place."

Dean swung his legs off bed and slowly crossed the room to him. "Okay, well…" he rested his hands on Sam's shoulders and looked at the screen. "Does it say anything about what draws them? Some kind of herb or spell?"

"Um," Sam minimized the window with the picture of the black bird he'd shown him earlier and pulled up a Google search. "I don't know, but I haven't found anything so far."

Dean sniggered. "What about your date last night? Was she able to give you anything?"

Sam's shoulders rose and fell underneath Dean's hands as he sighed. "You know it wasn't a date."

Yeah, of course Dean knew it wasn't a date; Sam wasn't a cheater. That was why, when Sam had put on a pair of nice pants and a blazer to go out with her, Dean had settled in with a few beers, watched a movie, and hadn't taken notice to the time when he'd finally been awakened by Sam's weight depressing the mattress beside him. Still, half of the day had already gone by and Sam hadn't brought it up once. He decided to push just a little.

"I don't know; she seemed pretty interested."

Sam was staring at the screen, typing in search queries, but Dean could see the little blush that crossed his cheeks. "She was," he replied quietly.

"Yeah? Well, come on Sammy, don't leave me hanging."

"There's not much to tell, Dean. We had a nice conversation at dinner and then she wanted to go back to her place for coffee and dessert. I think she really just wanted to talk, but she didn't know what I was hoping she did about our case and I didn't want to lead her on, so I said no and left."

Dean nuzzled Sam's neck, thinking about what she probably really wanted to do once she got Sam back to her place. "She wanted to talk, huh?"

"Yeah. I think she just really liked having someone around for intellectual conversation; I got the feeling she's not very well liked by her colleagues and she's kind of alone."

Dean kissed Sam's temple. "So, she wanted you for your brain, huh? You know, that happens a lot with you."

Sam leaned back in his chair as if that thought had never occurred to him before. "Huh. Yeah, I guess you're right."

Dean slipped his arms around Sam and then kissed him on the little mole beside his nose. "For good reason."

Sam creased his eyebrows together in surprise. "What?"

Dean didn't answer; instead, he moved his face in to close the small gap between their faces and caught Sam's lips in a soft kiss. At first Sam didn't move his mouth, but his lips were soft and pliable underneath Dean's and it was after only a couple of seconds' hesitation that he began to kiss back. Dean grabbed the back of Sam's head and tangled his fingers up in his long, soft hair and when Sam grabbed his torso, Dean moved to get on his knees so he could be level with him and move in closer, but Sam firmly held him in place and lightly pushed him away. Dean pulled back, like Sam wanted, looked into his brother's face and couldn't suppress a snigger when he saw the confusion all over his features.

"Uh, Dean? What – what're – we've got work to do."

"Aww, c'mon Sam, all work and no play makes Sammy a very dull boy."

"No Dean, I need to get this research done; it's important."

Dean stood up, took a step back, and slipped his t-shirt over his head, then threw it to the floor.

"What about now? Still got research to do?"

Sam's face was still a little disapproving, but was becoming conflicted as gawked at his bare chest. "Um…there's still that thing out there killing…" As he spoke, Dean slipped off his shoes, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Sam stopped in the middle of his sentence and his jaw dropped a little for a second, "…peephole – people I mean, killing… people…" Dean pushed his pants all the way down to his ankles, stepped out of them, then turned around and wiggled his ass as he took off his socks. From behind him, he heard Sam's distracted voice still trying to finish that sentence he'd started over a full minute ago: "we've got…uh, research…we're – we're…"

Dean grinned. Sam could be smart and eloquent with those brainy girls, but all he had to do was take some of his clothes off and his genius brother's vocabulary was reverted to broken phrases and monosyllabic words. He turned back around wearing only his boxers and then slowly ran his hands down his stomach and to the elastic waistband.

"What was that? What do you want to do?"

"We've – job…"

"Really?" Dean lowered his boxers just enough for Sam to see the base of his growing penis. "You sure?" He lowered the boxers the rest of the way down his legs and stepped out of them, loving the way Sam's eyes followed. "Guess I'll just have to find something to do while you do your research then." He ran his right hand down his chest and stomach, to his now fully hard length, wrapped his hand around the base, and slowly stroked it.

"Dean…" Sam obviously was trying his very best to sound disapproving, but his voice cracked at the end like a pubescent boy.

Dean's grin widened. "Yeah, you're right; I should really do this on the bed so I don't distract you."

He felt Sam's eyes on him as he walked over to the bed, where he plopped down casually, laid out with his head resting against the headboard, closed his eyes, and began to slowly stroke his cock. He was going a little slower than he normally would for the effect, but also because he didn't want to come too soon; when he and Sam were working a job, they didn't have time to have sex very often and it had been a few days. He imagined that it was Sam's big, warm, calloused hands touching him.

"Mm, yeah."

He exaggerated his moan a little, but touching himself felt good and knowing that he had an audience somehow just made it that much hotter. In his mind's eye, he saw Sam watching him with his pants down around his knees and touching himself from across the room. He started pumping a little harder, bit his lip, and felt his breathing naturally grow heavier. The visual changed to Sam stripping in front of him slowly, taking off each article of clothing one piece at a time. He then saw himself kissing Sam, rubbing up against him, Sam straddling him backwards and sucking his dick while Dean licked and fingered his ass.

"A-ah, oh God, Sammy."

He sped up a little more but then something from across the room fell and in the next instant, Sam was kissing him and stopping his hand. "No fair," Sam complained between kisses, "you're cheating, saying my name like that."

"Not cheating, just thinking about you."

"Shit, Dean, I…" Sam pulled away and Dean opened his eyes to see him throw off his shirt and hastily move his hands to his belt buckle. "I want you so much right now."

Sam already had his pants pushed down to his ankles and was busy stepping out of his shoes. Dean growled and reached out to him. "C'mere." This time, Sam climbed on top of him without hesitation.

An hour later when they laid beside each other in bed sweaty, exhausted, and completely sated, Sam rested his head on Dean's chest while Dean lazily stroked his hair. He was tired, but they really should get back to work. "Alright Sammy, come on, we gotta get up."

Sam threw an arm over him and pulled the covers up over them. "We've still got another hour."

Dean grinned. "You're picking something over research?"

"Shuddup and go to sleep."

Dean laughed. "Always knew you were the smart one." With that, he kissed the top of Sam's head, wrapped his arms around his torso, closed his eyes, and fell into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
